Black Bird
by Westward
Summary: Days have passed since Tex's outing with Caboose, and so far, no one on Blue Team has noticed a difference between the two. Not even Caboose. But Tex isn't worried about the Rookie, she's worried about herself. Even as Tex tries to repress her own memories, she finds herself slipping. And she knows it. But across the Canyon, the Reds have picked up on some interesting chatter...
1. The Witch of the West

**This is a sequel to my other fan fiction, Pigeon Feathers, which is a three chapter mini-fic. I recommend reading that first before reading this to understand the whole back story.**

* * *

**The Witch of the West**

Caboose was on the couch, lying on his stomach, his blond hair a mop-like mess covering his eyes and ears. He was close to unconsciousness, but was keeping himself awake by blowing the bangs away from his face. As he did so, Caboose listened to Tex and Church argue inside Blue Base's small kitchen. It was really intense, and the sound of glass breaking could be heard occasionally.

"Shit! Calm down!" Church ordered as he scrambled out of the Freelancer's way. As Church climbed onto the kitchen's counter, a dirty plate was hurled at his feet. "All I asked was that you could make me a sandwich. What the fuck did I even do?"

Tex slammed her fist down on the kitchen's small table. The wooden structure cracked under the pressure.

"How about the fact that I'm still pretty pissed that I came back here to find the whole place in chaos?!" Tex growled as she grabbed another dirty plate. "I had to use the last of our fucking ammo to get you dicks out of trouble. Again!"

Tex flung the plate expertly at Church's head, who was able to get out of the way at the last second. The wall light behind Church didn't fare as well, and the light bulb shattered as it made contact with the ceramic plate. Church hugged his head, some strands of his prickly black hair finding their way between his arms.

"Fuck! That was three days ago! I know that you're capable of holding a petty grudge, but I didn't think it would last this long." Church shouted as he jumped off of the counter. He darted for the exit, but Tex shot her arm out and grabbed him by the neck. The Freelancer forced Church up against the metallic wall and squeezed his throat slightly. Church had to whisper his next question. "What the hell are you doing?"

Tex stared at Church's blue eyes with cold determination. Tex looked murderous, like a rabid Rottweiler let loose on a crowd. Church grasped at his neck in a futile attempt to loosen the Freelancer's grip. Church was losing strength when Tex finally decided to throw him out into the Rec. Room like a rag doll.

Church slammed against the metallic flooring with a sickening thud. He tried to pick himself up, but was only able to achieve grabbing his neck and rubbing it while gasping like a horse. Caboose picked himself up and watched his bestest friend recover. He didn't blink as he glanced between Church on the floor and Tex, who was standing in the kitchen's doorway.

"Fuck, is it close to your time of the month or something?" Church muttered, glaring at his ex. Finally, he picked himself up and scowled at the redhead. "Now, I'm getting into my armor and going to spy on the Reds on the cliffs. I'll probably take Sister with me. If you want to kill me up there, give me a heads up."

"Just go." Tex ordered as she crossed her arms fearlessly. She growled slightly and watched Church scramble towards his room. Tex waited for Church to finally leave before she let her guard down. Finally, she sighed, "I hate this fuckin' canyon."

Tex held her head, rubbing the headache that she created away. She found a place on the couch Caboose was lying on. Caboose scooted out of the way and attentively stared at Tex. She continued to rub her forehead as she reclined into the ancient couch. Finally, after a couple seconds, Tex turned her head to look at the Rookie.

"Hey, Caboose." Tex nodded towards the Rookie. She closed her eyes to try and rest them for a second, but opened them back up when Caboose spoke.

"Hi, Tex. Um, how are you?" Caboose hesitantly asked. He noticed that the Freelancer was in a bad mood, and he was trying to tread lightly. He had a look of uncertainty, but couldn't process it quick enough to tell himself to stop.

"I'm . . . fine, Caboose. Just a little grouchy." Tex muttered as she rubbed her temples, avoiding the puppy blue eyes**. **However, she could feel the holes that he was boring in her after a moment, and she let herself slip. Tex automatically cringed from their shared eye contact and shied away from his enchanting stare. "Been like this ever since—"

Caboose nudged closer, confident now that she wasn't going to rip his head off, which was unusually rare for her. Caboose decided to take his chances even further as he formed an idea. He reached behind him and down under the couch cushions. Caboose had a small, childlike smile, but his eyes were alive with excitement.

"Since when?" Caboose asked, his voice rising with anxiousness. Quickly, he scratched his head, messing up his mop of blond hair. He looked so innocent, that Tex had trouble looking away.

"Since, uh, since the hot water was . . . um, used up this morning." Tex made a quick lie. She bit her lip as she tried to make it more complex. "I ended up taking an ice cold shower, which sent my whole body to chill. Sister always has to hog the shower."

"Oh, that sounds bad." Caboose gasped loudly, which startled Tex. She instantly balled her hands into fists, but compelled herself to relax her whole body. Caboose didn't notice the quick change in her body language, and continued talking. "I know exactly how to cheer you up!"

Tex was intrigued. She turned her head and stared intently at the Blue Rookie. Caboose fiddled his hands under the couch cushions; clearly searching for whatever he thought would cheer Tex up. Tex started to edge away from him now, not knowing what the moronic Blue was thinking. She may still have feelings for him, but he could be very unpredictable.

"What?" Tex asked, hesitant at best, terrified at worst. "What'll cheer me up?"

Caboose had a look of befuddlement. He quickly sat up and got on his knees. Instantly, he stuck both of his hands down between the couch's cushions, searching frantically for whatever would cheer Tex up. After a couple seconds, Caboose pulled out a disgusting, green moldy peanut butter sandwich and handed it to Tex for her to hold. Tex looked at it squeamishly and then threw it over towards the garage.

Finally, Caboose let a huge smile form as he twisted around to look at Tex. Tex rose an eyebrow, as if to question Caboose's actions. Caboose quickly placed his hands behind his back, not letting the Freelancer see what was in his hands.

"What are you hiding, Caboose?" Tex asked, her voice a little playful. Tex leaned forward to get a better look at a different angle. Caboose saw this and smiled as he moved to make sure it wasn't in Tex's line of sight. Tex stood up and crept closer to Caboose, as if he were her prey. "Come on, Caboose, what is it?"

"No, it's a surprise." Caboose said, a pearly white smile covering his whole face. "You gotta say the magic word."

Tex sighed and rolled her eyes. "Um, is the magic word 'please'?"

Caboose shook his head. His hair moved with his head, but was a half a second off. Caboose rolled up onto his tip-toes, giving him a very child-like feeling. He started to chew his lip as the excitement of his little game gave him. Tex rolled her eyes again before continuing.

"Is it 'Church'?" Tex asked a second time. "'Tucker did it'? 'Bestest friend'?"

"Nope, now you're just guessing!" Caboose exclaimed. Finally, he sighed and took the object out from behind him. What was in his hands astonished Tex. "They're sock puppets!"

Caboose sat back down on the couch; he handed one of the wrinkled sock puppets to Tex. The Freelancer stared at it; it was clearly a cat. The sock had pointed pieces of elastic as its ears and a pair of loosely hanging, non matching buttons as eyes. Strands of dead grass from outside were glued onto the sock puppet. It was poorly made, but Tex could tell that Caboose had spent a long amount of time making this.

Tex hesitated for a second before slipping the sock puppet on her right hand. She cringed as she felt a wet substance inside of the cat sock puppet, but was insisted to keep the sock on.

"See? You have a cat, and I have a dog!" Caboose pointed out as he slipped on his own poorly made sock puppet. "Woof woof!"

Tex didn't know how to respond at first. Caboose seemed undaunted by Tex's indecision and quickly opened and closed the puppet's mouth. He made a panting sound and moved the sock's mouth while he did so. Tex could see that Caboose was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Bow wow!" Caboose continued to make dog sounds.

"Uh . . . meow?" Tex finally said. She thought that she sounded like a complete idiot; it was really embarrassing. "Meow, meow."

Caboose's eyes sparkled with excitement as Tex joined in his small game. He made his dog sock puppet perk up and stare at Tex's cat sock puppet. The long tail that was poorly attached to the dog sock puppet whacked the cat as Caboose made it move too fast. Tex reacted by making a hissing noise, moving the cat appropriately.

Caboose let out a gasp, breaking character briefly. Soon, he bent the dog puppet forwards, giving it a gloomy appearance. Caboose attempted to whine like a dog, and actually started to cry a tad bit. Tex genuinely felt awful and tried to comfort the Rookie. This led to Caboose instantly cheering up, brightening the whole room.

Finally, after about ten minutes later, Caboose looked directly at Tex's face and stared into her eyes intensely. Tex had no other option but to stare back. Her emerald eyes clashed with Caboose's ice blue ones.

"Tex?" Caboose asked. His voice was suddenly extremely quiet. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward, showing that he was somewhat nervous.

"M'yeah?" Tex hummed.

"I . . . think that you are very pretty." Caboose said, stuttering on the first words. He crossed his ankles and pulled off his dog sock puppet. Caboose held up his hand and edged it closer to Tex. "And you haven't hurt my body in a long time. So I was hoping—"

Tex's friendly gaze was shattered. She pulled herself back into her lifeless void and she plastered a scowl onto her face. She hastily bit the cat sock puppet off and threw it at him. Caboose couldn't move fast enough to catch it, and it whacked him in the face. Caboose picked up the sock, and revealed that his friendly expression was replaced by a miserable one.

"No, Caboose." Tex stated, knowing what he was talking about, and ending it prematurely. She stood up and glared at the Blue Rookie. Her flaming orange hair covered most of her face, giving her a very intimidating appearance. When Tex spoke, she had the voice of an incredibly infuriated man. "Get up, and get out."

Caboose didn't question her as he scrambled for his bedroom. On his way, he started to snivel. Caboose slammed the door behind him, and once he was sure that he was all alone, he wailed endlessly. Tex could barely hear him, but she had a gut wrenching feeling that told her what he was doing.

"Son of a fuckin' bitch." Tex sighed as she fell into the couch for a second time that day. Tex let out a groan as she rolled onto her stomach, preparing herself to sleep her troubles off. Just as she was about to fall into unconsciousness, Tex heard an annoying chuckle coming from the other side of the room. "You, better have a hell of a good reason for waking me up, Tucker."

Tucker let out another laugh as he pulled up a plastic chair. Tex gathered enough energy to roll herself over again and glare at the immature Blue. Tucker sat in the chair, which was a couple feet away from Tex. A safe enough distance to give Tucker some time to sprint in case Tex decided to beat the crap out of him.

"How about you need a visit from Dr. Fuck." Tucker insisted. "You seem to be in a pretty fucking mood, and a very distinctive one two. I know exactly why, too."

Tex raised an eyebrow. _Give him time to explain, Tex._ She ordered herself as she nodded for Tucker to continue. _He may actually have a good reason why I'm feeling so awful._

"Alrighty then." Tucker started. "So, it's been a couple days since your escape from Blood Gulch, right? Right. And when you did come back, not only were you extremely pissed, but you were also sobering up after drinking for hours. I smelled the booze, don't deny it."

"So?" Tex asked, impatient with the Blue. "Why's this important?"

"It's important because when you're drunk, you're most vulnerable to the _lady killers_." Tucker winked as he said the last two words. "You met someone, and you had sex. So now, you've gone a couple days without some lovin', and you're turning into a grumpy prune because of it."

Tex was astonished that Tucker could really guess all that in one go. She forced herself to sit up and stare at Tucker. She tried not to give him any more hints about her recent history with Caboose, but she could feel her facial expression give her away.

"What's it to ya?!" Tex questioned, trying to intimidate him at the same time. However, her voice faltered at the end, giving Tucker some newfound confidence.

Tucker slapped his knee. "Ha! I knew it! So who was the lucky man?!"

Tex let out a growl, which sent Tucker crawling out of his chair instinctively. Once Tucker was sure that the moody Freelancer wasn't going to rip his throat out, he crept over to the couch and sat down on it. Tex grounded her teeth in frustration, but didn't complain on the Blue's advancement. Slowly, but surely, Tucker placed his right arm around her neck.

"Tucker." Tex growled her voice acidic. "Better watch it."

"Hey, don't get bitchy with me." Tucker stated defensively, but he didn't take his arm away from her warm neck. "And it was pretty mean of you to take your anger out on poor Caboose. He's just a dumb fuckin' kid. Probably doesn't even know how to fuck, too."

Tex sighed and rubbed her temples. Her stress levels were reaching the top, but she was relieved that Tucker hadn't guessed correctly.

"You're right; probably shouldn't have snapped at Caboose." Tex muttered.

"Don't have to tell me that. I know you're too needy at the moment to confess anything to Dr. Fuck." Tucker stated, cocky with the progress he made, but oblivious of how livid Tex was growing. "Tell you what, if you're lucky enough, the Doctor will give you your healthy dose of lovin', now that Sister is away with Church. So just relax, and let the professional do all the work."

Tex narrowed her eyes at Tucker. They were still for a second, waiting for something to happen. And then before Tucker could react, Tex had punched him in the nose.

"Ouch! Mother fucker!" Tucker shouted, grabbing his nose to try and soothe the pain. Before Tex could wail on him some more, Tucker flew off of the couch and tripped over the chair. Tex was unmerciful with her attacks, and Tucker cringed with each swift movement. "What the hell did I even do?"


	2. Cookies for Companions

**Cookies for Companions **

Grif was in his room, sleeping for most of the day with the horrific stenches that he welcomed. He was out of his armor and into his old, stinky pajamas. As he had slept the day away, his Red Army t-shirt had crawled up over her stomach, revealing the big tanned bulge, and up to his armpits. Grif's orange sweatpants were loosely hanging from below his waist, but this didn't bother him while in his food-induced coma.

Occasionally, Grif would let out a train-like snore, and then he would roll over to his other side. This sent his blankets everywhere until they finally rested on the disgusting metallic floor. Under the blankets was Grif's old alarm clock, which Grif had smashed months ago and hadn't bothered to pick up. He planned to use the broken alarm clock as an excuse every time he was late for something.

But Grif didn't plan for Simmons, Donut, or Sarge to barge into his room every day to wake him up personally.

A large and obnoxious knocking echoed in Grif's small room. Grif was stirred out of unconsciousness and let out a weak groan. He grabbed the pillow by his bedside and dropped it down on his head. Despite the new layer, the knocking was too deafening to overlook. Grif opened his eyes sharply and glared at the door.

"What do you want?!" Grif shouted faintly.

"Sarge wants us in the garage in twenty minutes, so hurry up, fat ass!" Simmons' voice boomed as he opened the door just enough to allow some light into the dark cave of a room. "If you aren't there on time, he's gonna pump you full of lead! And I think he actually means it this time."

Grif let out a weak groan.

"Can't you just tell him that I'm sick or something?" Grif moaned as he picked himself up. Grif rubbed his eyes for a long moment before scratching himself. He walked over to the door and opened it, shading his eyes from the bright light.

He opened the door to see Simmons staring at him expectantly. Simmons wasn't in his armor, but in his standard issue gym clothes, which consisted of a Red Army tank top and a pair of maroon sweatpants. Grif noticed that his clothes were in perfect condition, rather than his own.

The only thing disheveled about Simmons was his hair, which had a large gauze bandage over it. A small circle of blood could be seen in the thickest part of the bandage. Simmons' normal eye was looking over his partner's disgusting body while the robotic red reflected the hallway's lights.

"Say that Tex punched me in the crotch during our fight and that I need to be on bed rest for, oh, let's say the next few months," Grif begged.

Simmons shook his head, which led to him cringing and grabbing at his head wound. Grif didn't respond to his partner's obvious pain.

"Nuh-uh. You were only wounded on your right shoulder and arm; Tex didn't even come close to your balls," Simmons stated as he started to turn away. "Oh yeah, you should be wearing the sling that Lopez made for you. If you don't, your arm will probably heal wrong."

Grif let out another long moan and picked up the makeshift sling. As he placed his arm through it, he closed the door on Simmons. Grif was back in safety, where Simmons didn't dare enter the dark stink-hole that was his room. Grif heard Simmons make a sound of frustration before storming off towards the showers. Grif waited for a couple seconds to pass before he let a sigh of relief escape from his lips.

"Man, that was a close one," Grif sighed. He inhaled a deep breath instinctively as he rested on the side of the wall.

But he instantly perked up. His once sleepy eyes were now alert and swiftly looking around his dark room. Grif sniffed the air with a purpose. There, Grif smelled it again. He knew what that wondrous aroma was, and he wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

It was the scent of homemade cookies that were right out of the oven.

Grif moved like a zombie as he opened his bedroom door open again. But this time, he embraced the delicious smell of warm sweets. Without thinking, Grif walked down the metallic hallway and into the kitchen, where the fumes were even stronger in force. Grif sniffed the air again, searching for where the cookies hid from him.

After a long moment, Grif's eyes rested on the kitchen's small stovetop. The cookies were already on their designated plate, arranged to look like it belonged on a page of a Homeowner's magazine edition. Grif wiped some of the drool off of his chin and inched forward, careful not to tip off the pink private.

As Grif was about to grab the closest chocolate chip cookie, a perfectly manicured hand smacked him away. Grif sucked in a breath of initial shock, and then his hand started to tingle with pain. In a matter of milliseconds, Grif was shaking his hand until it felt like a piece of rubber.

"No, no, these aren't for you." Donut scolded as he stepped to face Grif. He was putting his manicured hand back into an oven mitt as he gave Grif a dirty look. "They aren't for any of us."

Donut was wearing an apron that read 'The One Who Kisses the Cook Gets to Eat First', which was his usual attire whenever he cooked for Red Team. His blond curly hair was extremely large today, probably because of the heat caused by the oven. Just above his eye was a gigantic, nasty looking black bruise, and when Grif looked at the Rookie close enough, he could tell that his entire body was covered with others identical to it.

"What the hell?" Grif scoffed. He fell down into a chair at the idea.

"You heard me, young man. I didn't make them for us." Donut nodded his head, agreeing with himself. Donut looked at the electronic clock that was over their heads. He smiled sweetly and headed over to the oven. He opened the oven's door and a wave of heat hit the two Reds. The two started to sweat profusely, and Donut hurried away with his work. Donut pulled out another batch of cookies and then closed the oven's door, "However, these are for us. That is, after Sarge concludes our meeting."

Grif didn't hear Donut's last sentence and quickly jumped out of the chair, making a bee line for the scorching hot cookies. Without thinking, the lazy Private snatched up a big, fat, and gooey chocolate chip cookie. The searing hot dessert burnt the man's fingers, and Grif recoiled from the experience.

"Shit, fuck. Fuck! Fuckin' balls! That's hot!" Grif shouted at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, he stopped badgering about his pain and thought for a second. "Wait, who did you say you make these cookies for again?"

Donut's face instantly changed from the carefree one that annoyed the hell out of everyone on Red Team, to one of panic. His eyes, which had been looking at Grif, darted to over Grif's shoulder. Grif squinted his eyes in question and turned around. He scoped out the area; no one seemed to be around until—

"Holy hell!" Grif jumped when he noticed that Caboose was only a few inches away from him.

"Hi, Grif," Caboose muttered; his tone was full of sorrow. He was still in his Standard Blue Armour, but he quickly took off his helmet to look at the Reds in the eye. Once he did so, the two could see that Caboose had been crying for some time. Caboose wiped his red nose, sniffling while doing so, before continuing. "How are you?"

Grif didn't answer the Blue's question. "Man, you look like shit. What happened to you?"

Caboose shrugged as he took a seat at the Red's table. He looked at the ceiling before answering, some tears still rolling down his deep blue eyes. "Oh, nothing bad. Just the usual."

Grif gave Caboose a look, as if to say, _are you freakin' kidding me? Something's clearly bothering you._ However, he let out a sigh and sat in a chair next to Caboose. Donut, who looked worried, took the other chair next to his friend. Caboose didn't notice the Red's advancement, and just sniffled again.

"Is your team abusing you?" Grif asked, insistent. Quickly, his mind shifted to something more important than the Blue Rookie. His back tensed up, and he was having a hard time keeping himself in the metallic chair. "Is Sister alright?! Are you guys abusing her?!"

Caboose looked at Grif, confused. The idiot thought for a second before answering. This only put more stress on the Hawaiian.

"Sister? Naw…" Caboose started, forgetting about his sad mood for a second. "She just spends a lot of time with Tucker. In his bedroom. In the showers. In the utility closet."

Grif let out a murderous groan. He clenched his hands into fists, and his fingers started to pale under the pressure. The two Rookies didn't notice Grif's sudden infuriation and continued talking. Finally, after a couple minutes, Grif was able to reform back to his lazy composure. When Grif started to pay attention again, the two were on a rant talking about the best Chocolate Chip recipe.

"Why do you even want the fucking cookies anyway? And why couldn't you make them yourself?" Grif abruptly asked.

"Oh, 'cause cookies always make me feel better when I'm in a bad mood," Caboose stated matter-of-factly. "And ever since Tex yelled at me this morning, I've been feeling very bad."

Donut leaned in closer towards his friend. "Why did she yell at you?"

Caboose had to think for a second. He scratched his head as he took his time to dig deep into his mind for the answer. "I tried to ask her if she wanted to be my girlfriend."

Grif couldn't help but burst out laughing. He started to snort at first, but then was left a puddle of jerks as he hollered out a laugh that shook Red Base. Soon, his sides were starting to hurt, and Grif had to bend over to keep himself from sucking in deep breaths of pain. The two Rookies intently watched Grif and waited patiently for him to regain control of himself. They waited for a couple minutes longer, until Grif was finally back in a vertical position, wiping some of the tears off of his face.

"Why's that funny?" Caboose asked, confused.

Grif just shook his head. It was obvious that Grif was still having trouble with this fact. The Red motioned for Donut to speak for him, knowing that Donut had the same train of thought that he did. Fortunately for Grif, Donut did know what he was thinking.

"I think Grif's laughing because he didn't expect you to fall for a Freelancer like Tex," Donut said as he checked the clock. He got up and grabbed some cookies for the three of them. Caboose instantly took a bite out of his and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. "She's so nasty and mean; she's your complete opposite."

Grif let out a chuckle. "Hey, you know what they say: opposites attract."

All of a sudden, one of the base's doors opened up and was then slammed harshly. Loud, booted footsteps ran down the halls of Red Base. The three soldiers were silent as they waited to see who it was. Since Caboose was a Blue, he would be shot on sight by Sarge, but Simmons would be more lenient and give the idiot more time to run before firing his weapon.

Luckily for Caboose, it was Simmons.

"Did I hear something down here?" Simmons asked as he entered the kitchen. "Wha—Caboose! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Hi, Simmons! Donut baked me cookies!" Caboose shouted, waving his half-eaten cookie.

Simmons just stared at the Blue Rookie, and then turned his deadly glare to his teammates. Mainly, he glared at Donut, who sank deeper into his metallic chair to escape the robotic red eye. Simmons scratched his head as he let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call for Sarge right now and have him shoot Caboose's brains out," Simmons ordered.

Donut didn't hesitate to tell Simmons his friend's situation. He even jumped up with excitement, knocking over his chair in the process. It clattered, partially covering up Donut's words. "Caboose is having girl troubles. _With Tex_."

"What?!" Simmons asked; he heard it perfectly, he just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea at first.

"Yeah, Simmons. That She-Devil managed to steal Caboose's heart. Can you believe it? And she ended up rejecting him, too, after he tried wooing her," Grif said, still chuckling slightly.

This made Simmons take the last chair as he sat down and pondered the situation. He scratched his head wound as he thought. Finally, after a couple seconds, Simmons asked, "What did you do?"

"Oh, I told her that I thought she was pretty. And then she threw a sock puppet at my face. It kind of hurt..."

The three Reds shared a confused glance before continuing.

"Okay, so there's you problem," Simmons stated. He bent forward, trying to drill in this information into the Blue's head. Simmons kept eye contact with Caboose as he spoke, "In order to keep a girl, you need to give her gifts first. Then, she'll be more likely to say yes. Trust me, the only girlfriend I had stayed with me for two years just because I kept on giving her useless crap."

Grif snickered. "Only _one_ girlfriend?"

"Oh, just shut up," Simmons muttered under his breath. "So, in order to get Tex, you need to . . ?"

Caboose thought for a second. Finally, when all hope for him seemed lost, Caboose managed to grasp the concept. "I need to give her stuff! But, but I don't know what to give her!"

The three Reds gave Caboose each gave their own answers simultaneously.

"Chocolates and sweets!" Grif said, as if stating the obvious. He dug into his cookie viciously before continuing. "These cookies will do the trick."

"Read her some romantic poetry." Donut stated, but then gasped. "Or play a guitar and sing her a song!"

"Flowers usually stimulate a romantic feeling 72% of the time. Statistically speaking, that is," Simmons muttered under his breath.

At first, it looked like Caboose had gotten information overload. But after a second of crossed eyes, Caboose had managed a stiff nod. He let his sullen mood disappear and he jumped up out of his chair. He hurriedly stumbled his way to the group of Red Privates, taking them all into a big bear hug. Caboose smiled, his eyes closing automatically.

"Oh, thank you so much for this!" Caboose yelled at the top of his lungs. He squeezed the Reds harder to show how affectionate he was of their help. "How can I ever pay you guys back?!"

"How about letting go of us, fucktard?" Grif muttered as he tried to free himself. It was a futile attempt, and he was left a limp object in Caboose's strong arms. "I've already got internal bleeding from Tex. I don't need any more from the other part of the couple."

"Sorry." Caboose apologized quickly. He let the three men go and rubbed his still runny nose. Caboose let out a weak, yet hopeful, smile and glanced at the Reds. They stared at each other in silence. It started to become awkward in the kitchen as Simmons started to run his fingers across his Battle Rifle. "Now what do I do?"

Someone cleared their throat in the far hallway. It was soon followed by the hollow cocking of a shotgun that echoed off of the metallic walls of Red Base. The four soldiers froze in place from their fear.

"How 'bout you get yer ass out of Red Base, Blue," Sarge stated. His voice was acidic from hatred of his enemies.

Sarge walked into their line of site. Sarge was in his own standard Red Army gym clothes, but he was also bandaged around the waist and shoulders. The gauze was a more disgusting color than Simmons', and it was apparent that he was badly in need of a medic. The Red Army leader swung his prized shot gun around and then steadily aimed at Grif.

"I'll give you to the count of three, Caboose, until I shoot Grif in the numb-nuts, and then you."

Grif gulped and turned around to face the Blue Rookie. His eyes were full with panic that scared Caboose. Grif pushed Caboose towards Red Base's exit. He was met with resistance for some odd reason, and the fat man had difficulty. Caboose looked at Grif, and he gave him a confused look.

"Dude! Get out of here or else he's gonna kill us!" Grif exclaimed as he pressed harder.

"One," Sarge muttered softly, he squinted his eyes at the two men.

"Why would Red Sergeant do that?" Caboose asked, scratching his forehead. He obviously didn't understand the situation that he was in. "I was invited over."

"It doesn't matter, get the fuck out!" Grif started to scream. He glanced back at Sarge and let out a petrified moan. He punched the Blue as he yelled, forgetting that Caboose was still in his armor, and that he wasn't. "Ouch! Can I get some help here?!"

Simmons let out a small chuckle as he sat back down into his chair. He motioned for Donut to do the same. Simmons messed around with his wounds before answering his partner. "No, I don't think so. Last time I got in between you two, I ended up paying for it. I'm just going to sit this one out."

"Two."

"Oh, fuck you, Simmons!" Grif swore. He punched the Blue, hurting himself once again. He was finally making progress; just a couple more feet until the two were safely out of Sarge's firing range. Grif was becoming hopeful. "Come on, just a little bit more, Caboose . . ."

"And, three." Sarge fired his shotgun at the two's general direction.

"Shit!" Grif fell to the ground, tackling Caboose while doing so. He was able to save both of their lives just in time. As the two hit the floor hard, the metallic walls were grazed with small bullet holes. They were fixed in place for a couple seconds, but when they heard Sarge's distinct footsteps come closer, Grif and Caboose were sent crawling for their lives. "Step on it, Caboose!"

"Okay."

Simmons, Donut, and Sarge watched as Caboose and Grif crawled on their hands and feet out of Red Base. A second passed, and then Simmons let out a disgruntled sigh. He stood back up and reached for a warm cookie. Simmons nibbled at it as he stared at Sarge.

"Well," Sarge started as he placed his shotgun down on the kitchen counter, "I guess with those two dirtbags gone, we can start the meeting. Sarge rubbed his grey stubble, remembering that he needed to shave soon. He let out a sigh and turned around. "Everything's in the garage."

Sarge left the two as he headed towards Red Base's garage. Simmons and Donut just looked at each other, unsure of what to do about Grif. So they just got up from their seats and followed their Red Sergeant down towards the Base's garage. Simmons scratched at his bandages, but stopped when he saw what was in their garage.

"What the . . ." Simmons couldn't finish his statement; he was having trouble moving his chin off of the ground.

"Boysenberry." Donut felt obliged to finish for Simmons. "Sarge, what's this all about?"

Sarge was standing by his bulletin board, which was covered with blueprints of insane designs. His face was covered by a slightly deranged smile which scared both of his underlings. His old eyes flashed in the workbench's light fixture, showing how pleased he was. His plans were coming together just as he had imagined it. He nudged Lopez roughly, whose detached robotic head was on the work bench.

"See Lopez? They like my plan just as much as you and I do." Sarge said to the robot's head. "And you looked pretty worried there for a second."

Lopez's head groaned, and if he had eyes, he would have rolled them. Not only that, but Lopez would have walked out of Red Base to never return, if only he had a body. But since he was only a head, he was stuck in Red Base, a place called his personal hell.

_"I wasn't worried; I was fucking telling you that it wouldn't work at all." _Lopez grumbled in Spanish, which no one understood. _"The only good part of this plan is that all of you will most likely die."_

"Thanks for your support, Lopez!" Sarge exclaimed, obviously pleased. He put his right hand down on the robot's head and patted it like he was his dog. "You'll be glad to know that it's already been put into action."

Simmons took a step towards the Blue Prints. From what he could tell, Sarge's plan was to build a gigantic magnifying glass and then weld it onto the Chupathingy. From what Simmons could tell, it made no sense whatsoever, and Sarge's creative side had started to nose dive into insanity. Simmons quickly turned to look at the bruised Donut, and he saw that the Rookie was equally confused.

"Uh, Sarge?" Donut asked, tentatively. He even raised a black and blue hand slowly, as if he was back in elementary school. His eyebrows furrowed over the top of his bright blue eyes as he questioned Sarge's plan. "What exactly is that supposed to be?"

Sarge did a double take, and his smug mood was instantly replaced with discontent. He grumbled and scratched his grey stubble while giving Donut the evil eye. Sarge reloaded his shotgun and Donut slowly stood behind Simmons for safety reasons.

"What is it? What is it?!" Sarge's voice rose in volume. He abruptly slammed his shotgun down on the garage's workbench and pointed to his Blue Print. "_This_ is our revenge against that She-Devil in Blue Base! We're going to construct a magnifying glass and then melt Blue Base! With the sheer amount of heat from my work of art and the sun, we'll melt the skin off of those Bluetards."

"Excellent plan . . . sir?" Simmons started, but was still pretty confused on what he was congragulating.

"Thanks, Simmons! I knew I could count on you!" Sarge didn't even detect Simmons' hesitance. He turned away from the two Privates and faced his masterpiece. Another big smile appeared on his face. "Within a week, we'll get our vengeance on Tex and put that woman back in her place."

_"Oh, god. You are all idiots."_

Suddenly, without warning, a soft knock on the garage's door caught Red Team's attention. Sarge furrowed his eyebrows and walked over towards the door. The three shared a quick glance before Sarge threw the door open. Caboose stood in the opening, rubbing his nose with a blue gloved hand.

"Hi!" Caboose said, unaffected with Red Team's uninviting reaction to his reentry. Nonetheless, Caboose treated Red Team as if they were his friends. "Um, I forgot my cookies. Can I have them?"

Sarge sighed and glared at the Blue Team's Rookie. "Fine, get your cookies and then get yer keister out of my Base!"


End file.
